


Strong In Order To Protect

by Astre_Red



Series: a sword to protect you [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astre_Red/pseuds/Astre_Red
Summary: (This is the story you know : a shattered family, evil twins, demon butler, reapers, death and grief under a child's skin.This is how it ends : blood and screams and grief, always grief, but this time something more. Anger. Rage. Despair. Determination.Not again.)This is how it starts again : with a girl and her sword aided by two friends.
Series: a sword to protect you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905901
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Strong In Order To Protect

(This is the story you know : a shattered family, evil twins, demon butler, reapers, death and grief under a child's skin.)

Tanaka felt his blood freeze as he raced towards the main hall, away from those people if they could even be called that. The images of his fellows servants's empty eyes, covered in blood, passed in front of his eyes. He pushed it away. He had to warn Master, since he couldn't hold these mysterious attackers away. He was a shame as a Phantomhive servant.

He was violently stopped by a searing pain in his side and fell to the ground. It took him a few seconds to recognize that this burn was caused by a bullet.

_No_. He thought desperately. He could hear the others's screams, the maids being killed. He had to warn someone, anyone.

He got up despite the pain, a mix of pain and rage burning his throat. A young maid came and, upon seeing him, and her eyes widened and she paled.

“Mister Tanaka-”

“Go ! Warn the Masters !”

But his yell was useless. Blood explosed from the maid's head and she fell to the ground, instently killed by a bullet.

_No_. He thought again. He heard steps behind him, and closed his eyes.

_God, please_ , he prayed, _let them live_.

_Someone, anyone, please. Come._

And someone came.

* * *

“This isn't a good idea.”

“Yeah, but we don't have any other idea. If you have a better one, don't hesitate to speak !”

The girl bit her lip, but stayed quiet. Her black hair was tied in a tiny braid. _It grew_ , Elizabeth thought vaguely. _Like mine_. But Sieglinde's hair had kept its slickness, its beauty, whereas Elizabeth's was messy and tangled. Gone were her curled boucles and drills, her blonde hair now tied in a simple ponytail. It would have made Mother angry, Elizabeth thought. She didn't care.

Othello turned towards them, a grin on his face. He was the one who smiled the most between the three of them, but Elizabeth knew it was more a force of habit than any real happiness.

“It's a good mix, don't you think ? I have to say, Sieglinde, you're way better than some reapers I worked with. We're going to ace it.”

Sieglinde didn't smile, but her eyes softened. They were a strange pair, this crazy reaper and genius girl, but also a good one. Elizabeth gripped her sword harder and tried not to feel like an intruder.

She startled when Othello's smile turned towards her, and didn't smile back. It was okay not to here, they knew each other too well to fool anyone. In this lab, Elizabeth wasn't a noble in grief, Sieglinde wasn't a witch manipulated by her own mother and Othello wasn't drowning in his mistakes and regrets.

In this lab, they could make everything right again.

Sieglinde sighed and hugged herself tighter with Wolfram's jacket. Elizabeth had never dared to ask what happened to her friend's butler, and Sieglinde had never asked what happened to Edward. It was a silent agreement between them to keep it quiet.

“You guys are amazing.” she said simply but honestly, and the reaper's eyes ligthened. Elizabeth had hated them, these too bright eyes, when she first saw them on Undertaker's face. Now she felt her chest lighten when she saw them.

“Are we all going back ?” she asked.

Othello's smile fell and Sieglinde shook her head.

“We don't have enough power for that. It'll have to be you, and you alone, Lizzy.”

“Ah.” Elizabeth nodded and pretended that her heart didn't hurt. Slowly, she asked again : “Are you sure you want it to be me ? Wouldn't a reaper be better ?”

Othello laughed.

“Nope ! You're far stronger than us. Also, you know the Phantomhive manor better than all of us, and a nameless human will attract much less attention than a stray reaper no one heard of before.”

“If you say so.”

A silence fell on them, only interrupted by Sieglinde's pen scribbling and Othello's machines.

“When will it be ?”

“In a week. Maybe two.”

Elizabeth nodded and pretended that what she felt was excitement instead of fear.

* * *

Seeing the Phantomhive manor after watching it burn twice was strange. But she had prepared herself for it, and didn't allow her feelings to stop her when she made her way into the estate. She didn't know exactly when it started, and she doubted she could save all servants, but it wasn't her mission. As long as the Phantomhive family lived, it was enough. Maybe it was selfish, but Elizabeth had always been selfish. She wasn't here to play hero.

She tensed when the first screams started, and the familiar weight of her sword comforted and calmed her racing heart.

It was time.

It was strange, how the attackers, the ones who had once destroyed everything, fell easily to her sword. Sebastian had once said that her strength was incredible for a human, and he was right. He never lied, after all.

She felt blood wet her black coat, one she bought when she first woke up in the cold streets of London. It was too big for her, as were the pants, but it made it easier to forget who she was and to focus on what she had to do. She wasn't Elizabeth Midford here. She wasn't anyone.

A yell caught her attention and she quickly made her way towards it. She hadn't heard this voice since a long time, but she recognized it. It was easy to.

Tanaka looked old, lying on the floor and dripping blood. He had always looked old in her memories, but it was the first time he looked frail.

A man was standing in front of him, gun in hand. Elizabeth's sword pieced his skull as if it was made of butter. Blood splattered on the ground as he fell, and she smiled.

Then she saw Tanaka looking at her, and her joy disappeared as fast as it appeared.

“Who are you ?”

He was looking at her like a stranger, because that's what she was, and she suddenly felt ill. She looked at her blood soaked clothes and gritted her teeth. She didn't have time for that.

“No one important.”

She turned and ran away, ignoring the servant's calls.

* * *

“Here.”

Elizabeth blinked and stared at Othello, incredulous.

“Othello.” she said slowly, wondering if all the grief and despair along the stress had finally made the reaper snap, “It's your Death Scythe.”

“Yeah, I know. It's yours now.” He didn't seem bothered in the slightless despite the absurdity of his declaration.

Elizabeth could feel a headache coming. “I can't just take your Death Scythe. It's too important.”

“You can since I'm giving it to you.”

“But-” she thought of Undertaker and Grell, and how proud and protective these two had been of their scythes “I thought grim reapers loved their weapons more than anything.”

“Most do.” Othello agreed, a sly smile on his face “But I'm not one of them. I'm not a fighter, Lizzy. I don't need it, and I barely know how to use it. It'll be better if you have it.”

A heavy silence fell on them, and she looked at the seemingly useless weapon in her hands. Even in its original form, she knew how much damage it could do.

“Are you certain ?” she whispered, and Othello beamed.

“Positive !”

* * *

Elizabeth fled shortly after killing most of the attackers, confident in the Watchdog's ability to take care of the few ones who were fleeing the manor. She ran through the garden, painfully aware of the people still in the manor -namely, her once uncle and actual Watchdog- who would soon recover from the shock and pursue her.

Had she been anyone else, it would have taken her a precious time to find a way to flee undetected by the peasants working near the estate. But she was not anyone, and she had pratically grew up in this place once, so she ran through the garden then the country roads easily.

She took off her too big coat stained with blood and covered her sword with it, before continuing on her way. With her long pants and short hair, she looked like a poor boy passing by with an admittedly strange looking package.

She didn't see the curious eyes watching from afar.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up lying on the dirty streets of London when rain started to pour. She felt numb, and slowly got up, afraid that the ground would give up under her.

She was wearing a simple purple dress, one Sieglinde gifted her. Othello's old lab coat kept her warm even as drops of water fell on her shoulders. She wondered, not for the first time, if this was what love really was.

(It certainly wasn't what she once felt for Ciel.)

Her sword was still in her hand. She had gripped it so hard that blood had started to fall from her hand. It must have looked weird, a fifteen years old girl in a lab coat holding a sword. She didn't really care. She had stopped caring about looks a long time ago.

There were money in her bag, enough to buy an appartment and clothes. She would have to find a job eventually, but she still had time left. She had fake papers to create, which would be tricky, but she had money and that was enough for many things in the underworld. Fake papers and identity would be easy. She quickly rummaged in her bag and felt her heart lighten once her fingers touched Othello's scythe.

A thought made her blink, and she looked at her sword, thoughtful. She remembered Sieglinde's words, when she talked about her hair.

A fresh start. Elizabeth smiled, and raised her sword. Blonde hair fell on the ground until it was as short as Edward's once was.

_Now_. She thought, and let her gaze fall on an old newspaper lying pathetically on the ground, _Time to work._

* * *

The news of the attack on the Phantomhive manor made huge waves. She noticed how no mention of her was made, and didn't know if she should feel worried or relieved. She chose to wait until her problems were fixed before thinking about it.

It didn't take long before finding someone who could fake her papers, Othello had already looked into it before sending her back. With hers and Sieglinde's money, it was strangely natural to create a new identity.

The shaddy man raised his eyebrows.

“Name ?” he asked, and Elizabeth paused.

_I'm not Elizabeth Midford. I'm not a Phantomhive. I'm not a noble. I am no one._

She bit her lip, before a name she heard once made her smile. It was common, and it was family. Yes, it would do just fine.

“My name is Rose. Cristy Ros.”

**Author's Note:**

> I edited it. I hope you liked it ! Tell me in the comments !


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